


Easy Like Sunday Morning

by clairedelalunex



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Freeform, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Oneshot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 09:46:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8323186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clairedelalunex/pseuds/clairedelalunex
Summary: A bit of a cute oneshot between a sleepy John and Sherlock.





	

For once in his life Sherlock Holmes was speechless. He had no idea that life could be like this, so simple yet fulfilling. That he wouldn’t need drugs or a double homicide to quieten his mind and keep him grounded. It turned out all he had needed was to have his very own captain John Watson of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers wrapped tightly in his arms as the little spoon, every night and morning for the rest of his life. This morning, the way the lazy Sunday morning sun of a London that was still hushed outside the windows of Sherlock’s bedroom was lancing across John’s face and lighting up his handsome features.

Sandy blonde hair with increasing patches of grey was nestled beneath the nook of Sherlock’s chin and he leant his face down to inhale the heady scent of Sandalwood and sleepy musk that encapsulated John most mornings. It was his own heady elixir and he drank it keen and eagerly every morning before John woke up. Sherlock relished these moments, they were sparse between cases but last night they had solved one and John had taken him to bed and ravished him till they were both empty and spent against the rumpled sheets.

Post case adrenaline was their private strain of aphrodisiac.

Waking up before John was his favourite past time though, it was his own private moment to take in every changing aspect of his lovers appearance as it appeared and he didn’t want to miss one moment of it. From the small trail of drool that ran across his chin, to the way his nose crinkled and his mouth hung open in a satiated relaxation only Sherlock could achieve. He admired the crow’s feet around his soft eyes, the crinkles between his brows and the small creases that built up around his mouth from smiling often.

John moaned and stretched his short muscular limbs against Sherlock’s lankier ones and rolled over to bury his face against Sherlock’s chest and place small kisses against the expanse of alabaster skin that greeted his sleep hazy eyes and dry lips. He moaned in appreciation and Sherlock brought a hand to his chin and tilted his lips up to his own and they shared a long passionate kiss as they both slowly woke up against each other and battled to gain dominance over the kisses as they grew sloppier and sloppier.

‘Morning love.’ John mumbled happily, sleep hazy eyes drinking in Sherlock propped above his head on a muscular arm and looking down at him longingly like everything he had ever wanted was right there in front of him.

Sherlock smiled coyly and leant down to passionately place another kiss against John’s lips and laid back down beside him, pressing his lips around the ragged mounds and dimples of the matted scar tissue on John’s shoulder. He loved to kiss this part, to feel the different textures and ridges on his tongue and lips as he made his way around the bullet wound. He loved the way it made John blush and squirm under his attentive mouth.

All these years he had lived with the absence of John Watson in his life and at this moment right now he never wanted to leave his bed or the presence of this great man that seemed to make him so whole and complete. Outside of these covers he didn’t need anything else. John had rapidly become his everything and he lived for these moments with him, wrapped up with each other like this. Their legs were entwined and Sherlock had his head resting on John’s chest now his curls rising and curling with the steady rise and fall of John’s chest.

It was like a cheesy novel, the sunlight moving across their naked bodies and sending gooseflesh rising where it dappled and the way they held each other closely, the streets muted. It was a morning of pure bliss and contentment. They were happy romantics in love with each other. Anyone looking in from the outside could tell. But this was there moment that they got to keep to themselves. And Sherlock wouldn’t give it up for anything.

He loved John Watson and that was all that mattered.


End file.
